Heroes Avenue
by theawesomehuman
Summary: Ludwig was not expecting to be roped into joining a five-man band with his brother. Things take a spiral turn when the boys head down to a small village in NY- Alfred's team building exercises are proving to create chaos too. Furthermore, they never intended to become actual heroes. This village... Is more than what Ludwig was expecting. [BandAU][GerIta plus other hinted ships]
1. Chapter One

If you were to ask Ludwig Beilschmidt what he'd wanted to do back when he was a child, a lead singer of a mediocre rock band was not what he'd have answered.

Originally he had aspired to be something along the lines of a fire-fighter, quite like many young children would answer. When the young German turned 17, he dropped out of school and enlisted in the German army. And four years later he became an officer. He'd been positioned in Afghanistan for six years before he finally quit and returned home, too distressed to even attempt to carry on in the war. Ludwig had expected a loving welcoming from his family. Instead, however, he was greeted by his brother begging Ludwig to join Gilbert's newly founded band as the lead singer. Of all positions he could have been, why the lead singer?! Ludwig had said no to begin with but Gilbert found a way to convince his brother, with the use of a lot of potatoes. And so, two weeks later, the brothers flew over to America so Ludwig could meet the rest of the band.

Ludwig referring to the band as mediocre was pretty harsh. Ludwig wasn't an atrocious singer. On the contrary, he'd been told he was an excellent singer, with a cavernous and sometimes resonating, yet powerful voice. That didn't mean he liked to sing though. Ludwig's brother Gilbert played the drums. He was good, though unfortunately he tended to get carried away with his drumming. Poor Francis Bonnefoy had to wear an eye patch for a while after that drumstick mishap. The Frenchman played bass and an Italian man named Feliciano Vargas was the lead guitarist. They were all good at what they did, even if the band was a minor thing. But the member that baffled Ludwig the most was Bjørn Thomassen. About a year ago, when Ludwig first met the other band members, the Norwegian had been rather quiet and blunt. As you can imagine they got along well, pretty much criticizing everything quietly together. Then Ludwig found out what Bjørn did. He was a violinist. Ludwig could not understand why there was a violinist in a rock band. He questioned his brother relentlessly, Gilbert simply smirking and handing Bjørn his violin. Bjørn had begun to play and Ludwig finally understood- Well, no, he didn't understand. It was easier to pretend that he did. Bjørn had the ability to play the violin beautifully; instead he played the violin aggressively. Yes. Bjørn was an aggressive violinist. That was the incident that made Ludwig stop questioning everything and just accept how the band worked.

Alfred Franklin Jones was the manager of this ensemble. The kid was 20 when they met, not even legal to drink in America. Ludwig had given up asking questions, so he just accepted this peppy dork as the manager. He wasn't too keen on being bossed around by someone who was 3 years younger than he was though. Not that he had much of a choice on the matter. From what Ludwig had heard (thanks to Feliciano) Alfred was a lot more intelligent than he acted and a year later from that point, Ludwig confirmed that Alfred was loud but intelligent. He was a good leader. The last person in their team was the driver, Arthur Kirkland. He was a rather sarcastic man, British and true to his name, as portrayed through his love of tea.

They all got along well, though Ludwig usually ended up yelling at everyone, since someone always ended up arguing with someone else. Basically they didn't get on with one another for more than 20 minutes. You'd have expected Ludwig to realise that shouting wasn't going to achieve anything, unluckily though, Ludwig had not fathomed this. The biggest argument the band had had was over the name. Ludwig and Bjørn didn't care too much. Gilbert wanted to call it _Gilbert and the Birds. _Francis wanted to call it _The Lover's Whisper. _And Feliciano wanted to call it _The Screaming Pasta._ Ludwig nearly burst a vein that day, however was saved when Alfred suggested the name _Heroes Avenue._ In the end, that was the name that stuck. They were all surprisingly happy with the name and Heroes Avenue planned to take over. Ludwig put his foot down though, because world domination had nothing to do with music. Alfred, though he was disappointed, bought a pretty decent tour bus for them to tour around in, the boys travelling out to perform gigs. They were small performances but gigs all the same.

It wasn't until a year later when their big adventure primarily started.

**OUOUOUOUOUOUO**

"Arthur! Can't you drive any faster?!" Alfred reprimanded, popping out to the front of the vehicle to glare at the Englishman. Arthur growled darkly. He tore his gaze away from the road and turned his head a fraction to face Alfred.

"I'm not used to driving on this side of the road! Blimey, you American's have stupid fucking laws." He grumbled, his emerald green eyes dull with exhaustion. "Plus, there's a speed limit. I'll surpass it if I drive any faster."

"Dude, that's no excuse!" Alfred sighed, poking Arthur's cheek. It was so entertaining to wind up Arthur. He and Francis usually took turns to do so, whether it be when Arthur was driving or when they were parked. Speaking of Francis, the Frenchman was sitting on his bed, brushing his golden locks repeatedly, deep in conversation with Gilbert and Bjørn. Well, it was mainly Gilbert and Francis conversing, Bjørn adding a snarky but amusing comment when he looked up from his phone.

"She was so into me," The silver haired man insisted, dramatically lying across the other two men, hand over his heart. He shut his crimson eyes and sighed, lavishing in the warmth the other two men emitted. "It's such a shame we didn't stay much longer in Colorado. She was perfect."

"Mon chéri, you should go back for her." Francis insisted, hopping off the bed they were seated on, setting the brush down and beginning to pack a bag for Gilbert. "Love knows no distance. It means nothing!"

"She was pretty awesome..." Gilbert said, glancing at Bjørn. The Norwegian quirked an eyebrow, an unreceptive expression written across his face.

"If you care so much for this girl Beilschmidt, what was her name?" The other blond asked, rolling his indigo blue eyes. Gilbert shut up at that, Francis throwing the bag away dramatically and stalking off.

Ludwig, on the other hand, was taking a nap. The German had stayed up with Feliciano, his best friend, for the second night in a row. The poor Italian was feeling homesick. Even though there was the option for Feliciano to go home for a while, since there were no current gigs lined up, it wasn't an option apparently. According to Feliciano, he didn't have a home anymore. He couldn't afford to go to Italy and see his grandpa and his brother Lovino- Well, he'd moved house, never specifying where he'd decided to move to. Ludwig hated seeing Feliciano, the ever-happy and sometimes annoying man, so upset. So Ludwig stayed with him whilst he couldn't sleep, telling his stories from the war or singing a lullaby to him. He wasn't entirely sure if this was what friends did, but sometimes he fell asleep hand in hand with Feliciano- He'd wake up an hour later and move though, hence why Ludwig was tired and Feliciano had never witnessed the handholding consciously.

"LUDWIG!" Ludwig jolted awake and up at the shrill scream, smacking his head against the wooden bunk above him. The sound of his forehead colliding with the wood reverberated around him mockingly. That wasn't the best way to be woken up. He looked to his right where he came face to face with Feliciano, the happiest of looks on the brunette's face. Feliciano... Though he had his moments of being a nuisance, he was both talented and sweet. Not to mention handsome. The Italian stood at 172cm, with short dirt-brown locks that curved around his face in a complimentary manner, a curl on the left side of his head. Ludwig had no idea what the curl was, so don't ask. Feliciano had big brown eyes, hued with amber, ones that sparkled every time he smiled. He had perfect teeth, his features tender and soft, his nose slightly turned up at the edge. He came across as young, but was actually the same age as Ludwig. In comparison to Feliciano, Ludwig regarded himself as rather... Plain in appearance. His blond tresses were always gelled and slicked back in an orderly fashion, one that reflected his personality. His facial attributes were firm and masculine, giving the German man a stoic aura. His eyes were aero-blue, some of the bluest eyes you'd ever see. They were currently narrowed, his pearly-white teeth bared in irritation as he rubbed his forehead.

"Mein Gott! What is it, Feliciano?" Ludwig replied in feigned calmness, forcing himself to relax before he scared the Italian. He didn't like that Feliciano sometimes turned uneasy around him. Feliciano was the last person he'd ever want to hurt in any way, even if he did yell at the other man a lot.

"Lovino finally texted back! He's in New York, working in a bar. Can we go and see him? Please? Per favore!" Feliciano pleaded, hugging Ludwig's arm, "I miss mio fratello so much, Ludwig. It's been a year since I've seen him. He said I can stay in his flat for as long as I needed! Oh, please!"

"I don't think we can change course so last minute." Ludwig pointed out. It was unfortunate that Lovino was in New York. They'd been near that area the day before yesterday.

"Please? When you were in the army, didn't you hate being away from your brother for so long?" That sentece pulled on Ludwig's heartstrings. It was true, he did miss Gilbert terribly when he was away. "Please?"

"Ja... Calm down. It's not up to me to make these decisions." Ludwig grunted, tugging his arm away from Feliciano. Ludwig regretted that when Feliciano's expression changed, "Hey now, it'll probably be fine. We haven't got anything lined up anyway. I'm sure Alfred will be alright with it." Ludwig added as reassuringly as he could.

"Ve! I hope so. He lives in a lovely little village; it'll be so peaceful there. I bet we'd have a really nice time." Feliciano insisted. Ludwig heaved himself to his feet, "Hey, Luddy?"

"Don't call me that. But ja, what do you want now?"

"Can you ask for me?" Ludwig shot Feliciano a stern look. One look at those tear-filled eyes and Ludwig sighed, heading out to the front. Meanwhile, Feliciano hugged Ludwig's pillow, a small smirk playing on his lips. He wasn't taken advantage of his best friend or anything, not at all. The German was wrapped around his pinky finger and didn't even realise it. Feliciano knew that it worked both ways though. He buried his face into the fluffy white cushion, inhaling Ludwig's scent. It was a musky scent, one that reminded Feliciano of autumn. His curl twitched into a tiny heart. Ludwig may come across as harsh, but he smelt so welcoming in Feliciano's opinion.

When the German was behind the driver's seat, he wasn't at all impressed to find Alfred and Arthur squabbling as usual. "Can you two shut up?" He demanded. The two men jumped at the sudden appearance, Arthur gripping the steering wheel tightly in concentration. Alfred pushed his glasses up and took a seat.

"Why aren't you seat belted up?!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Because I have something to talk to you two about. We need to head down to New York." Ludwig replied, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Arthur opened his mouth to scream at Ludwig, not taking his eyes off the tarmac, but was cut off by Alfred speaking. "Dude, you should have said something when we were closer to the area. Why do you want to head down there?"

Ludwig had to formulate the most convincing response. One that would be beneficial towards the band, for that would really convince the two. "You know how Feliciano has been feeling homesick? His brother texted him saying that he was in New York, working in a bar. We should go. One; Feliciano will be so much happier if he could see Lovino again." Alfred exchanged a look with Arthur. "Two; uh, Lovino said we could perform in the bar." Ludwig hated lying. But he had to do whatever he could to get them in New York.

"Feliciano set up a gig for us?! Awesome!" Alfred cheered, pumping his fist into the air.

"That's my line," Gilbert cackled, appearing behind Ludwig with Francis and Bjørn. He slung an arm around his younger brother, earning an elongated sigh from Ludwig.

"Whatever. Arthur, turn us around! We're going to New York!" Alfred ordered. "Oh my god, I can even drink now! This is going to be sweet!"

Francis grinned broadly, engulfing the Norwegian in a tight hug. Bjørn didn't really do anything, a small smile on his lips and excited twinkle in his eyes. "I've always wanted to go to New York." He told Francis, who simply tightened his arms around him.

"Mon ami, you will have the best time!" Francis promised.

"As long as you don't keep hugging me, I'm sure we'll all have a good time. Are we going to the city?" Bjørn directed this question at Ludwig. Ludwig shook his head.

"Nein, it's some village in New York. I'll go talk to Feliciano and ask him which village we're going to. We'll have to look up the address though, if you need the satnav." Ludwig mumbled, pulling himself away from Gilbert's iron grip.

"We don't need a satnav! I'll find it in no time!" Arthur growled. Francis flicked the back of his head. "Oi! What are you doing, you tittified frog?!"

"After you got us lost last time, I don't think anyone trusts you." Francis jeered, hands on his hips. "You're as bad of a driver as you are a cook."

Ludwig rolled his eyes. Seven men living in a tour bus wasn't going to be a smooth ride (Ja; that was a bad pun) however Ludwig had grown to enjoy everyone's company to a certain extent. They all meant well, even if they were usually some of the most boisterous men Ludwig had ever had the pleasure of meeting. The truth was, well, Ludwig actually liked living with them all. He knew they all felt the same way, even Bjørn. At the end of the day, they were all a great friends. Ludwig would have left this stupid band if it wasn't for the people. He'd never really had friends like this.

He sauntered back into the bedroom part of the bus to find Feliciano rolling around on his bed. Ludwig pulled a face, "Feliciano." He grunted, folding his arms over his broad chest. Feliciano paused in his rolling, sitting up and looking up at Ludwig with a bright smile, expectancy shining in his russet orbs.

"Si?"

"We're going to New York." Ludwig announced, sitting down on the bed. Feliciano made an attempt to hug Ludwig, but the pillow got in his way. "If anyone asks, Lovino set up a gig for us."

"...Why?" Feliciano asked quizzically, blinking at Ludwig. His expression turned a little sceptical. "Wait, did you lie to Alfred?"

"I didn't get a choice on the matter." Ludwig barked, shifting his position so he could look at Feliciano. "I'll sort something out, don't worry. You... Just be happy."

"I am happy! I'm very happy! Sono felice!" Feliciano confirmed, shutting his eyes as he shot Ludwig a toothy grin. "Thank you so much! I can't wait to see Lovino again, Luddy."

"I'm glad you're happy. I need to know the name of the village, though."

"Averdale." Feliciano said, throwing the pillow back and clinging onto Ludwig again, face buried in the German's shoulder. "I have the address in the text." A faint blush graced Ludwig's cheeks but he nodded firmly, tone passive so that Feliciano didn't notice his discomfort/enjoyment.

"That's good then. We'll be able to change the route now then. You'll have to get off so that I can-"

"DUDE!" Alfred cart wheeled in, a wide smirk on his face. He straightened himself up and brushed out the creases in his shirt, laughing loudly as he locked eyes with Ludwig, who was staring at Alfred with horror. Did this man seriously just cartwheel in a moving vehicle? "Hey Feli. Did you get the name of the village, Lud?"

"Averdale!" Feliciano repeated brightly.

"OI, ARTHUR, WE'RE GOING TO AVERDALE!"

_**Hello! Thank you for reading. I'm sorry if this chapter is a tad dull, it's the introductory chapter. Heh, I tried to make it entertaining, so sorry if it wasn't. Hopefully it'll be more enjoyable when they reach Averdale! Thank you again, and reviews are very helpful.**_


	2. Chapter Two

The new detour plan hadn't gone down very well with Arthur, however no one was shocked enough to present the Englishman with a reaction. The pitiable man was but a humble bus driver, eager to make more money so he could buy his own place, rather than hanging around with a bunch of deadbeats. Arthur reckoned he'd be a much more fitting manager of the band. Perhaps, under his supervision, he'd be able to take Heroes Avenue to a new level. Ah, that would be nice. Getting to be the one who could order everyone else around. Where Arthur lacked in musical talent, he made up for in intelligence and leadership abilities. Apparently no one gave a damn about what he wanted though, hence why he was loaded with a ratty job like this. Listening to a bunch of whiny men for hours on end got rather tiring. Was he being harsh? Probably. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but aside from all the mental complaining he just did, deep down, deep deep down, he quite liked the collaboration of men. They meant well, even if they were all annoying ponces the majority of the time. Arthur supposed that he must have gotten used to hanging around with such a crowd. Liking them didn't make any sense. Arthur most definitely did not like them. He had conflicted views on Alfred, Francis, Gilbert, Bjørn, Ludwig and Feliciano- And it's best just to leave it at that.

Though everyone was energized about heading down to Averdale, in comparison to the other people touring, Feliciano was _ecstatic_ with where they were going. That wasn't surprising though, it was his brother they were seeing. They'd been over to Norway to see Bjørn's brother Jon, and they'd been up to Canada to see Alfred's brother Matthew. Francis didn't have any brothers, plus Ludwig and Gilbert were still together. Francis had also organised a surprise for Arthur- On his birthday, his brothers were coming to visit. Francis insisted that was simply because he wanted to ask the brothers how they put up with Arthur's bullshit, however Feliciano knew better. Francis cared- Or he was trying to make up for how much he and Alfred had bothered Arthur. Anyway...It was finally Feliciano's turn to see his family member. As the rest of that evening played out, excitement was moulded to his bones, to the extent where he was bouncing up and down in his seat, hands curled up into fists. He couldn't contain himself, especially not around Ludwig. The German _was_ the reason Feliciano got to see his brother, after all. Every time the German came into sight, Feliciano awarded him with a peck on the cheek. That, of course, dissolved Ludwig into a flustered mess, with a muttered 'dummkopf' to go along with it.

Feliciano's attitude didn't change much the following day. He was still joyously skipping around, waiting patiently for them to arrive in Averdale. Everyone had got sick of Feliciano by this point, but no one had the heart to ask Feliciano to shut up, even if it was everyone's mutual interest. Well, actually, Arthur, Alfred, Francis, Gilbert and Bjørn were more than happy to tell Feliciano to stop his happy rambling, his soft singing and his weird dancing, the request waiting on the tip of their tongues. However, when Feliciano was in the bathroom, Ludwig told them not to. He didn't want anything to upset Feliciano. The Italian had been feeling miserable for days- It just wouldn't be right. Ludwig didn't think it would be at any rate. So they agreed to leave Feliciano be.

The day started off rather gloomily. Grey clouds loomed and thunder rumbled overhead, the mood set in concrete as dreary. They were pulled over at a pit stop whilst Arthur took a well-deserved nap, the majority of the band sleeping as well. It was only 7:30am though. Ludwig wasn't asleep though, he was sat up in his bed with his notepad in hand. He wasn't sure if he could claim it as just his bed anymore, seeing as Feliciano was asleep there as well. Ludwig didn't even notice the Italian slip under the covers with him. It was quite a surprise when he woke up in the morning, but he thought nothing more of it. He had heaved himself out of bed, brushed his teeth and got into the shower, all prepared for the day ahead Ludwig had been tempted to do some push ups too, however as soon as he'd sat down on the bed again, Feliciano embraced Ludwig's thigh. It was a bit hard to stand up, let alone work out, with an Italian man attached to your thigh. And so, Ludwig settled with writing up some new songs instead.

"Dude! Did you do the homework I set you?" Alfred asked as he entered the bedroom sector of the bus, a teasing lilt laced in his voice. He raised an eyebrow at seeing Feliciano, gesturing to the Italian with his index finger. "What is he doing?"

"How should I know? He's asleep, it's not like he hugs my thighs for the sake of it. And nein, I didn't do any homework. I'm not a child, Jones." Ludwig huffed in response, before he held up the notepad. "But I'm writing the songs like you asked. I'm having some writers block though, so is this okay?" Ludwig handed the notebook over to Alfred. The American pushed his glasses further up his dorsum as he studied the neatly printed lyrics, nodding after a moment in approval.

"It's cool, but you wrote 'Feuer.' That's German." Alfred informed him, tossing the notebook back. Ludwig caught it before it hit Feliciano, rolling his eyes.

"Keine Scheiße. I meant fire. I keep switching back to German, my apologies."

"Jesus Christ, you're so formal Ludwig." Alfred let out a hearty laugh- Actually, it bordered on being a childish guffaw, Alfred's face lighting up with amusement. "But whatever man, it's fine. I like the song though; you should perform it at the gig in Averwhatisitcalled."

"Averdale." Ludwig said, choosing to dismiss the comment and laugh towards his mannerisms. He paused at the mention of the nonexistent gig, having a quick mental debate as to whether he should come clean or not. As tempting as it was, Ludwig decided against it. Alfred could be rather scary when he wanted to be and Ludwig didn't want to deal with that when Feliciano was there, whether the man was asleep or not. He just nodded. "Ja, sure. But Alfred- Why aren't you asleep like everyone else?"

"Sleep is for the weak, my man. Sleep is for the weak." Alfred repeated eerily as if he was playing a looped tape, backing out of that sector. Each compartment was divided by curtains, all somehow squashed onto the long but slim bus. It was rather cramped now that Ludwig reflected on it, nevertheless it didn't matter; they were all used to such living arrangements by now. As soon as Alfred was out of sight and hopefully hearing range, Feliciano shot up.

"I cannot believe you're still lying to them!" He whined, his accent thickened by Feliciano's bleariness. Ludwig was, of course, not expecting the Italian to do that. Not only was it a rather odd bolt from the blue, it also meant that Feliciano had been clinging onto Ludwig's thigh consciously. Ludwig didn't bring that up until after he'd -out of reflexes, he had no intention to hurt Feliciano- smacked Feliciano with the notepad. Feliciano's bottom lip trembled as he held his nose, "Ow! Why did you do that, Luddy?" He mumbled, tears threatening to spill over. Ludwig wasn't entirely sure what he should do as Feliciano nearly began crying.

"I'm sorry!" Ludwig exclaimed, "It was out of reflex. I didn't mean to hurt you, Feliciano." He promised, pulling Feliciano into a quick and apologetic hug. This unsurprisingly perked the Italian up. He dropped his hands from his face and snaked them around Ludwig's waist. Ludwig loosened his arms around Feliciano, not bothering to let go though- He wouldn't be able to do much now that Feliciano was attached onto him like a leech again. "...Also, why were you hugging my thigh?"

"It's okay!" There was a small silence as Feliciano thought of an answer. "Uh, I don't really know. I woke up like that and it was warm, so I didn't want to let go. Plus your thighs are all muscular!" At least Feliciano was honest. That was Ludwig's only justification for such an obscure answer. "Hey- Why don't you smile more? Aren't you happy?" Perhaps a little too honest for Ludwig's liking. He flushed an angry crimson.

"Just because I'm happy or whatever, that doesn't mean I want to smile, Feliciano. I have no reason to smile." He snapped harshly, disclosure enforced in his tone subsequently so that Feliciano knew the matter was not to be discussed. It wasn't like Ludwig had any problems or anything. He just didn't want to smile. Why should he smile anyway? Ludwig hated irrelevant questions; answering them was just an inconvenience. Surprisingly, Feliciano didn't flinch at the tone. No, he didn't react at all. He just tightened his arms around Ludwig for a split second and let out a breathy sigh.

"Ve. Okay." Feliciano rolled his shoulders back and reached up to give Ludwig a tender kiss on the cheek. He then crawled over Ludwig and trudged down to the bathroom to get himself ready. Feliciano was more than used to Ludwig's snappy and stoic remarks. It would never change the way Feliciano acted around Ludwig though, as the Italian knew Ludwig liked Feliciano for how he was... Right? Hopefully so. That's what Ludwig always said when Feliciano asked if they really were best friends. To Feliciano, they were a lot more compatible than people realised.

Whilst Feliciano settled down in the bathroom, Ludwig was leant against the wall of the bus, a heavy sigh leaving him. He listened to the rain spitting against the window, forming a steady beat. He started scribbling down some more lyrics, that being until his concentration wandered off. He didn't like being callous, he just _was_ callous. It didn't help that everyone could be a tad irritating when they didn't get their way. Overall, Ludwig especially hated being horrid to Feliciano. The Italian was too sweet to have to endure that sort of behaviour. Ludwig made a mental note to apologise later- His train of thought was cut off as he heard groggy groans from the others, the men finally stirring. Ludwig wasn't actually expecting them to be awake yet, the German met with quite a surprise when he turned his head a fraction towards the other beds. Arthur, Francis, Gilbert and Bjørn were all sat around a game of Monopoly. Ludwig hadn't even heard them get up, let alone noticed them! Had he really been so engulfed in thought that he missed four men getting up and wrangling over a board game? Apparently so. God knows how long they'd been awake for by this point. Ludwig didn't say anything and turned back to his original position, choosing to listen in instead.

"Bloody hell! Just fucking give me Boston!" Arthur demanded, irritation evident in his voice.

"Keine Chance! Boston's too awesome to give to someone like you."

"You lot have all the good places." Bjørn piped up. (It was very easy to decipher who was who, thanks to the distinctive accents each of them had.)

"Ohonhonhon, you have New York though, Bjørn." Francis pointed out. "I could trade it with you-"

"No." The Norwegian said sternly, a sharp slap against skin and an 'Ow!' able to be heard. Francis had probably reached over to take the piece and Bjørn had retaliated with a slap to the... Somewhere. As long as there weren't any butts being presented, Ludwig didn't care.

"I hate you all." Arthur wailed, clambering onto his feet judging by the scraping sound of denim against carpet.

"Don't be a spoilsport, that is totally unawesome."

"If you say the word awesome one more time, I will rip off your nipples."

"Hah, I said unawesome though."

"Arthur, dude, we should head off now. We don't want to be late." Alfred walked back through the entrance. He held the ebony curtains up with one arm, nodding in acknowledgement to Ludwig, still waiting for Arthur to get up. Arthur made a disgruntled noise; nonetheless it clearly was an 'okay' seeing as he swaggered through to the front of the bus and started it up. Two minutes later, they were back on the road.

**OUOUOUOUOUOUO**

A couple of hours later and they were in Bayonne, New Jersey, which meant that they were only 30 minutes from reaching New York. Everyone refrained from informing Feliciano this, in fear of the guy going on a rant on how absolutely spiffing America truly was. No one needed to hear that. Everyone was tired and restless, even if they'd not been doing anything (poor Arthur). Not even Ludwig would have been able to muster enough energy to deal with Feliciano's happy outburst. Therefore this valued information was kept a secret from Feliciano.

The group, minus Arthur and Alfred, were all sat around in a circle, each positioned in a lazy style. They were all curled up, hugging their knees or laying back with their arms behind them to keep them upright. That was the position Francis, Gilbert and Bjørn were sat in. Ludwig was propped back against the wall of the bus, Feliciano sat in his lap. He had tried to get the Italian to sit beside him rather than on him, but one look at that blessed smile of Feliciano's and Ludwig cracked. Feliciano was very comfortable on Ludwig actually, his head propped up against the German's chest, legs tucked up. No one really said anything about it though, only because it was normal behaviour for both Feliciano and Ludwig. The others, though they'd never say it to the boys directly, admired such a strong bond and friendship between Ludwig and Feliciano.

"Let's tell some horror stories!" Gilbert announced randomly, mid-way though plaiting Francis' hair. Bjørn had been slumped forwards over his phone this whole time, however at the sound of 'horror stories' he sat up straight. This was a topic that mildly intrigued him. They were all interested in the idea actually, even Ludwig, who didn't usual care for the supernatural and things likewise. "I'll go first because it was my idea. Then Francis can go, then Bjob-"

"I told you not to fucking call me that." Bjørn-not-Bjob hissed.

"Whatever. Then Ludwig and then Feliciano can go." Gilbert clapped his hands together, formulating a good story in his head. _"It was a dark and stormy night, quite like the weather we're experiencing today. A young girl called Joanna was trekking through the forest in search of berries for her mother. They were Mutter's absolute favourite! She finally came across a berry bush, immediately scavenging for as many berries she could fit into her tiny basket. Suddenly, she heard a soft whisper saying 'hello.' Joanna turned around, shocked to find nothing. So she headed home, flinching every so often as she heard some, 'Hey!' 'Wanna play?' 'Don't look behind you...' Joanna didn't even speak to her mother. She headed straight upstairs and locked her bedroom door, slipping into bed. Chills ran down her spine as she heard the creak of the door. The little girl pleaded for it to be her mother saying goodnight- Then it fell silent. After a few minutes passed when she felt something shift beneath her bed and poke at the mattress. 'I know you're awake.'" _Gilbert was quite proud of the horrified faces he received as a reaction.

"That was- Mon ami, why?" Francis frowned, glancing either side of him and opposite. Bjørn seemed unfazed now, Gilbert was smirking, Ludwig was rather pale and Feliciano was shaking like a leaf. "I guess it's my turn now..." He paused. "I really don't have a horror story. I have some love stories though-"

"That's not the point, Francis! Urgh, whatever. Bjørn, your turn."

Bjørn remained quiet for a moment, thinking about which story he would tell to the others. He eventually opened his mouth and started speaking- However, he told the story in Norwegian. Ludwig was about to point this out when Bjørn's expression changed to one that made it seem as if he was chanting, which was spooky enough in itself. He got louder after every pause he took, clearly only freaking himself out. He ceased to speak after he'd told the whole Norwegian tale, blinking several times like he was trying to snap himself back into reality.

"...Uh, okay." Gilbert snorted, "Alright Broass, it's your turn." Ludwig grunted with disapproval. The nicknames Gilbert awarded to people were stupid as fuck.

"I still think I should be allowed to tell my story-"

"No, it'll probably be an erotica. Bruder, you-"

"I don't have one." Ludwig cut across in an even tone, contrasting with the bitter expression he was wearing. Feliciano had stopped shaking by this point and straightened himself up, looking more than just determined by this point. He gestured to himself with his thumb.

"I have a story." He grinned toothily, "Okay, so- _once upon a time there was this little cheese block called Giovanni. He was the sweetest, always greeting customers as they walked into the shop to buy his family and friends. He was one of the very mature cheeses, not at all popular type in the country he was in. He was glad to not have been taken though, for he'd miss everyone he met. Plus he wouldn't be able to meet other people if he was taken away! One day someone picked him up and scoffed him down when he wasn't looking so he died. The End."_

Everyone stared at Feliciano with utter dismay. They had been expecting something scary due to the confidence in his voice, not something plain obscure. Ludwig pulled a face, "That's not even a horror story, Feliciano."

"So what? It was a tragedy which can be considered to be scary by some people. Just ask Shakespeare!" Feliciano argued, burying his face in Ludwig's shoulder. The German patted his back comfortingly instead of scolding him further, though the latter choice was very tempting.

Alfred popped his head around the corner at this exact moment, serenity graced on his face. He took a moment to greet each member in the room with his Caribbean blue eyes, studying the aesthetics of the band members. Appearance was important, after all. Please with what he saw, he quirked an eyebrow upon noticing Feliciano and Ludwig together like that, though made no comment on their position, getting on with the matter in hand. "Yo, quick announcement- We should be arriving in Averdale in precisely 10 minutes. If you look out the windows, you'll see New York City. It's as if they were expecting us, look how much the weather has improved!"

Ludwig switched his focus to the windows, a small smile flitting over his face as he noticed the view. The sun was peeking out from between two gainsboro coloured clouds, the grass and leaves of each tree a rich shade of green, peppered with droplets of water. Even from the main roads you could hear the sound of laughter from a nearby park, each frame slicked with cool water. They could all smell the muggy but fresh smell from the rain prior to now, Ludwig letting out a content sigh. But it was busy, people bustling around and barely speaking to each other, graffiti scattered across the grounds and written onto the walls. New York had it's beautiful and disgraceful elements.

"I'm glad we're finally here." Francis murmured, stretching himself out, happy with the clicks from his spine. Gilbert pulled a face at the bone cracks.

"Don't do that! You know I hate it. Urgh, you're so unawesome."

"I like New York already. You guys- Just no." Bjørn mumbled under his breath.

"It's amazing!" Feliciano said in awe, scuttling over to the window. The Italian smooshed his face against the glass, hands pressed up against the tinted glass. He soaked up the view, that previous excitement within him doubling. Before Ludwig could peel him off the glass, Feliciano sprinted down to the front off the bus, sitting down in the seat beside Arthur.

Arthur kept his eyes locked on the road, his lips forming a questioning 'o' shape as Feliciano took a seat beside him. Feliciano had always had this weird tendency to do that, it wasn't something he was surprised by anymore. Feliciano continually came out with something new, making Arthur curious as to what he wanted this time around. "Yes Feliciano?"

"Ve~? I don't have much to say, actually. I only wanted to thank you for driving us to Averdale on such short notice. That was really nice of you." Feliciano said to the Brit, his voice light and soft. That really did manage to catch Arthur off, the Briton nearly spurring off-course.

"Thank me? You're thanking me?" Arthur repeated, emerald orbs wide. They never thanked him for anything. He was paid to drive them around; there was no reason to thank him. And Arthur voiced this thought, earning a laugh and a quick pat on the back from Feliciano.

"You're just as bad as Ludwig! Thank you anyway, Arthur! Thanks for being our driver!" Feliciano beamed brightly, hugging his knees to his chest after wrapping the seatbelt loosely around himself. Arthur could honestly say that he'd never felt so touch from such a simple statement like that.

"Thank you too, Feliciano. You're a real swell guy, you know. Ludwig's lucky to have a friend like you."

"You're so silly! We're friends too, Arthur. Ludwig's just my best friend." Arthur said nothing more, a toothy grin fixed on his face.

Meanwhile, the other band members plus Alfred were getting ready to get off the bus, as they were rapidly approaching Averdale. When the sign, _Welcome to Averdale,_ passed them, Feliciano let out an excited squeal. It was finally time for him to see his brother! The tour bus a few metres away from the pub, Heroes Avenue and co pooling out of the bus to get a better look. The village was small, a good few houses and a library around the centre. But that wasn't why they were here. Each member was focussed on the pub in front of them, each wearing contrasting expressions. Feliciano, Alfred and Francis looked excited. Gilbert and Ludwig looked sceptical. And Bjørn and Arthur looked unimpressed.

The pub obtained a very subpar appearance if one was to look at it from where the boys were standing. The pub was called Din Mor, the neon-electric sign flickering in and out of colour every so often. The actual building was a reddish brown colour, some of the bricks chipped at and the door slightly askew. Alfred didn't take any more time with observing the grubby building, marching inside. The rest of the Heroes Avenue team followed in suit.

Inside the building, it was in pristine condition. The mahogany wood was polished, the floor swept clean of even the smallest ounce of dirt. There was a flat screen hung up on the wall, a couple of people huddled around it to watch the game. Behind the bartender was an array of neatly presented alcohol brands, a few tables set out, with a couple of stools beside the bar. Ludwig approved. The German took a second look at the bartender, making a quick assumption that this man was Feliciano's brother. It was quite obvious actually. He had an olive complexion, with dark brown hair. His eyes were green, though had a hue of brown to them, making them come across as hazel rather than brown. Like Feliciano, this new guy had an unruly curl that bobbed up and down to the right of him, whilst he cleaned out some glasses with a cloth. Lovino set down the glass when he saw the new comers, a cross between a scowl and a pout across his face.

"You didn't tell me you were bringing these bastards with you, fratellino." He grumbled, jumping over the bar. He seemed to extend his arms towards Feliciano in a rather reluctant manner, not at all startled when Feliciano practically jumped on him in greeting. "Ay, calm down. I missed you too."

_**Thank you for reading this chapter! I'll try to post chapters weekly. Reviews and follows are love ouo Thank you!**_


	3. Chapter Three

An hour after the initial reunion, Feliciano and Lovino sat together at the bar; catching up on everything they had missed from one another's life over the past year and a bit. The rest of the crew were huddled in the corner of the pub to give the two men some privacy, a firm silence settled over them. Within this silence, the boys could hear snippets from the conversation, each sentence consisting of either Italian or profanities. Though it sounded amusing to the boys, it wasn't exactly the most entertaining thing they could be doing. Lovino refused to serve 'those bastards' any alcohol. No one else was out at the moment either, which meant that they had to endure this boredom whilst sober. Bjørn slid away about ten minutes into the catch up, hands stuffed into his pockets, gone without a word of goodbye- Unless you counted the brief nod he gave to Arthur, who was busy on his phone. Francis and Gilbert silently initiated a staring contest with each other after Bjørn's departure and Alfred was trying to view Arthur's text message, his chin propped up on the Englishman's shoulder, his eyes widened with curiosity. Ludwig was completely rigid aside from his foot; it was tapping away, impatient and fractiously. The German eventually looked at the Italian brothers to see if they were done yet and let out a disappointed sigh to find out that they were not done.

"So why did you join such an, uh, _stupido_ band, Feliciano?" Lovino demanded, his cheek resting in the palm of his hand, elbow positioned on the counter. He sounded bored however Feliciano could see the inquisitive shine in his eyes. "It's not like you're successful, yet you're still with those bastards."

"They're my friends!" Feliciano protested, his bottom lip poking out a little at Lovino's disheartening words. "We don't have to ever be successful. The music is what matters! You should hear Bjørn shredding it on his violin!"

"They all seem like a bunch o' talentless ragazzi. How can you stand being with so many of them all the time? It's tiring enough for me to have to deal with my boss, Lizzah, numero bastardo uno, bastardo numero due-"

"Don't use such crude language!" Feliciano whined, gripping his brother's arm, causing Lovino's head to fall against the table. "Ah, sorry! Mi dispiace! But anyway, they're all very talented. We'll perform for you one day!"

"Please don't." Lovino snapped, rubbing the side of his head aggressively. He narrowed his eyes at Feliciano. "They'd better be treating you well. You'd better not be letting them walk all over you! Not like-"

"Calm down Lovi, my friends would never do that! But- I do have a favour to ask of you..." Feliciano said apprehensively, devising the best way to go about this. "I need to book a gig here for the band... Hear me out! I was feeling really sad and homesick, so my bestest friend Ludwig convinced Alfred to let us come and visit. He told them that we had a gig here so they'd let us come! And it worked... Please, fratello, please!"

"That bastard!" Lovino screeched, slamming his hand down on the bench, every insult splintered between his teeth. "Potato-chomping liar! I'll shove a potato right up his culo. Agh! He's so German, for fucks sake- How am I supposed to organise such a thing on this short of a notice? You idiot, you should have phoned me and warned me in advance!"

"I'm sorry!" Feliciano wailed, tugging the hem of his shirt awkwardly. "Ludwig didn't mean to cause a problem; he was just trying to help me out, Lovi. You'd love him if you spoke to him. He's so kind and muscular-"

Lovino scowled enigmatically, but before he could respond, he was cut off by a loud laugh and creak of the door. Lovino let out a string of Italian curses as a chocolate-haired man entered the room, the man's green eyes lighting up as they fell on the newcomers. He seemed to take a moment before he comprehended the situation, the first connection he made being that Feliciano and Lovino were brothers. He rushed over to Feliciano, pinching his cheeks. "Oh Lovino, is this your hermano? He's so cute! You never mentioned anyone visiting our beautiful bar. Oh my, Lovino! Look at this. You brought in some new people! Me llamo Antonio!" Antonio exclaimed, a happy glint in his eyes when he spotted the others in the corner, who were wearing bemused looks. Lovino inwardly cringed, smacking the Spaniard's hands away from Feliciano; even though the younger Italian seemed fine with it, 've-ing' away with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Don't touch Feliciano, Antonio." Lovino snarled, glaring darkly at Antonio. The Spaniard didn't seem to be very effected by the look of abhorrence though, swaggering over to the other members of the band. He held his hand out to everyone, coming to Ludwig last; The German shook the hand with caution, his eyebrows arched questioningly. He didn't say anything for a minute, eyes drifting over the new guy. He didn't seem like he was any sort of threat- Just an overly peppy man who wanted to be friendly. Kind of like Feliciano after eating chocolate.

"I'm Ludwig," He finally said, retracting his hand. "Do you work here or are you just a friend of Lovino's?"

"I work here! Lovino, Lizzah and I rotate our shifts around. Lovino has to go clean up now, Lizzah's going to be working with Mikkel; Boss Toni's going to be serving at the bar now." Antonio announced proudly. It was a little more information than Ludwig needed, but he nodded politely anyway. And what the hell did he mean by 'Boss Toni'? Was that his name? Did Ludwig have to call him that?

Francis and Gilbert, both men sat across from Ludwig, exchanged looks. It was as if they could read one another's thoughts, by the way they did their next actions concurrently. Gilbert slipped away from the table and slung an arm around Antonio, Francis snaking it around the Spaniard's waist after he'd followed in Gilbert's pursuit, both wearing grins as a wide a Cheshire cat's.

"I'm Gilbert and that's Francis." Gilbert announced, "I think we're all going to get on rather well, don't you agree?"

"Ay, that would be wonderful! Mi amigos, we should drink to this new friendship." Antonio said gleefully, earning a nod from both of the other men. Judging by the perplexed look Lovino was wearing, he was either annoyed or not having any of this new founded friendship nonsense.

"Eh?! People don't just- You don't become friends like that, idiota!" He huffed, raking a hand through his brown locks. "Plus, I'm not serving you bastards a drink! And you, Antonio, cannot drink whilst you're on your shift, so cut the crap and sit back down."

"Ah mon ami, the friendship of love works in many different ways." Francis complained, tightening his arm around Antonio, both as a protective mechanism and as a way of proving his point. "The only way to make a friend is to be a friend."

Ludwig, who had been quietly watching the interactions between the others, raised an eyebrow. That was a rather wise thing Francis had spewed out, quite unlike the usual bullshit he said. Feliciano, Lovino and Antonio stared at Francis in awe for a full minute, this breaking when Feliciano tried to go and sit with Ludwig.

"I'm not letting you sit with that liar!" Lovino said, hand clamping down on Feliciano's shoulder. Lovino wasn't entirely sure what he had against the German- He just didn't like the guy. He was even angrier about the fact that Feliciano and Ludwig were great friends. Maybe that's why he was getting stupidly protective over Feliciano. Anyway, this outburst caught the attention of Alfred, the American glancing over with a sceptical look.

"Ludwig's not a liar. The guy never lies." Alfred piped up.

"Is that so?" Lovino smirked broadly, and it was the leer that made Ludwig realise exactly what was coming. Alfred nodded, his cowlick bobbing up and down a little as he did so, though his appearance turned from certain to doubtful. "You do realise that there is no gig booked here, right?"

"Lovino!" Feliciano gasped, burying his face in his hands. His voice came out muffled, "Why would you tell them that? Lovino..."

"Because he's a Schwein." Ludwig spat out rather calmly, getting onto his feet. Lovino huffed and puffed, his face turning a dark shade of red at the insult he didn't understand. Feliciano, sensing this, hugged his brother from behind and made sure to hold on tightly, deciding that this was the best way to suppress Lovino's bubbling anger for the time being.

"...Beilschmidt, you'd better tell me that he's the one who is lying, or else I won't be very happy." Alfred said in an eerily rebuked tone. "We better have came all the way down here for a reason."

Ludwig gritted his teeth together, not sure what to respond to that. Everyone was glowering at him, aside from Feliciano. Even Arthur had put his mobile phone away to watch what was happening, which just incensed Ludwig more. He clenched his hands together tightly, until his knuckles become a sickly white. "I told you; Feliciano was feeling homesick. You wouldn't have came down for that reason though, would you? Which is wrong. We're a team, if one person is upset, then we should do what we can to help them." Ludwig knew he was just digging a hole now, trying to pull at the heartstrings so he got off lightly.

"Aw, that's muy agradable." Antonio cooed, resting his head on Gilbert's shoulder.

"Non, it is not." Francis exclaimed, pulling away from Antonio and Gilbert. "Gil and I have been rehearsing very hard for this! It's been ages since we've performed. Boo."

"Get over it, frog face." Arthur shouted out from his seat, arms folded over his chest. Needless to say, that didn't go down well with Francis. The two were dissolved to a bickering mess.

"I told you they're all bastards, Feliciano." Lovino mumbled shamefacedly. He didn't have any intention to strike up an argument between everyone. He just wanted Ludwig to get into trouble or something. That would have been funny as hell- Well, it would have been funny to Lovino anyway.

"I happen to be a very awesome bastard, danke." Gilbert growled, earning a frown from Antonio.

"Don't get mad at Lovino, Gilbert! He means well. His use of the word bastard is affectionate! That's why he calls me one all the time."

"It's not affectionate, tomato b-"

"Lovino, stop it!" Feliciano said assertively.

"Why the hell did you tell him anything in the first place, eh?" Ludwig grumbled to Feliciano. The Italian sighed, rolling his shoulders back in a feeble shrug.

"Well-"

"You shouldn't have lied, Ludwig. You know how important getting gigs lined up is for us. Damn it. You- You're grounded!" Alfred yelled, hands on his hips. "Uh... No, um, whatever. It doesn't matter. We never had a set destination anyway. This trip could be beneficial to us. You all need to learn to get along better, I'm sick of all this fighting! The only way to make a friend is to be a friend, in the wise words of Francis- You lot need to become friends. We're staying in this village for a while and I'm going to organise team building exercises for us to all do. Lovino and Antonio can join if they wish, but they don't have to. These activities will get harder every time and when you've learned what it's like to be in a team and then we can leave. First thing first, we have rehearsal tomorrow and the first activity."

"What?!" Everyone in the room said simultaneously.

"It's LEARNT you-" Francis clamped his hand over Arthur's mouth, looking utterly horrified by Alfred's proposal. Before anyone could reject such a concept, Alfred had left the bar. Arthur licked Francis' hand so he could speak, the Frenchman snatching his hand away immediately. "...This isn't going to be very fun."

**OUOUOUOUOUOUO**

During the time it took for the argument to unfold, Bjørn had been exploring the pub. He intended to find the others again when he was done; and then head out to investigate Averdale. It seemed rather nice when they were driving through it, so Bjørn reckoned that he should have a look around again. There weren't exactly many rooms in the pub, which was why he was wandering around the _Staff Only_ area. He was rather shocked to find that there were a few office rooms at the back of the pub, as well as a bedroom and shower. Who the fuck would want to live in a pub? They were always full of drunk people and reeked of alcohol.

Bjørn took a swift left down the corridor and ended up smashing into another man. "Woah there!" The man snickered a little, his eyes sparkling with the enthusiasm he was emitting. Bjørn wasn't particularly impressed or apologetic, remaining silent in hopes that the man would leave him alone. He didn't though. "What are you doing in the Staff Only area, eh?" Bjørn picked up the Danish accent fairly quickly.

The Norwegian took a careful step back from the man, his eyes sweeping over him. He was tall, with sapphire blue eyes and boisterous blond locks, one that seemed to reflect the man's personality rather accurately. Positioned crookedly on his head was a little black hat, his clothing choice rather formal considering how the man acted. His shirt was red polyester and he wore pinstripe trousers, his leather shoes sophisticated. Bjørn concluded that he was probably the manager of the pub.

"I was exploring the premises." Bjørn answered honestly, tensing up as the Dane rose an eyebrow. He relaxed almost immediately when the man began to laugh.

"Fair enough, little Norwegian! I'm Mikkel by the way." Mikkel grinned eagerly and held out a hand for Bjørn. Bjørn shook it firmly, deciding that the guy was not as bad as he originally assumed he would have been. Though the nickname wasn't appreciated.

"Nice to meet you, Mikkel. I'm Bjørn... I'd prefer you to call me that, rather than 'little Norwegian'. That's a dumb nickname." He replied bluntly, a small smile curving on his lips for the briefest of seconds. "Uh, how are you?"

"It's a cute nickname! But whatever- I'm doing great thanks! And you? Here, let me show you around." Mikkel was practically bouncing with excitement, linking his arm with Bjørn's and steering him around. "There's not much to see though."

"I'm okay, thanks. And yes, I've seen all there is to see. I do have two questions though-" Bjørn retracted his arm from Mikkel's grip; the guy was nice, but Bjørn hardly knew him. Mikkel was like an over-friendly puppy.

"You do? Ask away!" Mikkel commanded ecstatically, not at all bothered by Bjørn moving his arm away, his grin broadening instead.

"Number one: Is that your bed in the second room?"

"Yes, it is... Don't think that I'm weird or anything! I love this pub, so I don't want to ever be separated from it!" Mikkel sighed as Bjørn gave him a scathing look. "Uh, well, I invested most of my money into this pub. Business is slow though, so I give most of the income to my employees. I just live in the pub because I can't really afford an apartment."

Bjørn admired Mikkel's honesty, for he hadn't been expecting such a response. He awarded the man with a swift nod of acknowledgment. "Alright. Number two: Why is the pub called, 'Your mum'? I know Danish pretty well, so-"

Mikkel let out a bellowing laugh, laughter lines crinkling around his eyes. "Oh man, you got me! Most people don't make that connection 'cause it's America. I thought it'd be a rather funny joke."

"You're such a loser, Mikkel."

**OUOUOUOUOUOUO**

Ludwig was astounded by Alfred's announcement. He sat at the bar with Feliciano with pint of beer in one hand, a partially distressed look on his face. No one was making any attempt to get up and locate the Alfred after his departure, most likely because they were all dreading what Alfred had in store for them.. Ludwig knew that they all had their tendency to argue, however he never thought they were that bad. But when he reflected on the past year they'd shared with one another, he could understand where Alfred was coming from, on contrary to what he might have thought- Or wanted to believe anyway.

"What do you think Alfred has in store for us, Luddy?" Feliciano asked, breaking the icy silence. Ludwig replied with a brief shrug and Feliciano lugged on, "I hope it's not something that's too difficult. That wouldn't be very fun or nice! And it might cause more arguments."

Ludwig was about to scold Feliciano for being lazy when he heard the latter sentence. Instead a shrewd look appeared on his face, "Ja, I can see what you mean. I doubt Alfred would be happy if we argued even more- The guy's a good manager, I'd hate for him to quit on us."

"What?! No, no, no, he wouldn't leave us! Right?" Feliciano squeaked, clutching onto Ludwig's arm. Ludwig took a swig from his beer.

"I don't think he would, Feli. Calm down." He mumbled. Ludwig contemplated snatching his arm away from Feliciano, but instead relaxed against the Italian, sipping at his beer. Feliciano didn't say anything for once, resting his forehead against Ludwig's shoulder, tracing his fingers over the contours of Ludwig's muscles. A shiver ran down Ludwig's spine and his lips curved. It wasn't as if it was anything out of the ordinary, but Ludwig still had to ask. "What are you doing?"

"Ve- ve- ve- Huh? I'm not doing anything." Feliciano quipped. He let Ludwig's arm go and slipped back onto his stool. Once again, Feliciano fell silent. The German knitted his brow together and drained the remainder of his beer. Ludwig was hesitant to ask what was wrong in fear of upsetting Feliciano further, but on the other hand, Ludwig was growing increasingly more worried for Feliciano. He had expected the Italian to be happy like his usual self now that he was reunited with his brother. Maybe Feliciano was thinking too much; Feliciano didn't think that often though. Ludwig knew he was more of an impulsive and passionate young man, rather than one of careful intellect. Ludwig set his glass down on the bar, turning his head a fraction to face Feliciano.

"What's bothering you, Feliciano?" He questioned, his voice lowering an octave, like it usually did when he was quiet. Feliciano shook his head. "Feliciano, you can talk to me. You know you can. Telling me what's wrong isn't optional; it's an order." Perhaps Ludwig was being too demanding. Did he care? No. Feliciano's well-being was a lot more important to Ludwig.

"You'll think I'm being pathetic, but... What if the band breaks up? If we can't get along, then it might happened. My parents didn't get along and then they split up. We're no different..." Tears welled up in the corners of Feliciano's eyes, his hands balling up into fists. Ludwig rarely saw an emotional side to the happy-go-lucky Italian. Just looking at Feliciano made his heart shatter; so Ludwig acted quickly. He got off the stool and linked an arm around Feliciano, his free hand placed on the back of Feliciano's head, gently guiding Feliciano to lay his head on Ludwig's chest. Feliciano nearly jumped away from shock- This must have been the first time Ludwig had initiated a hug. Feliciano listened to Ludwig's rhythmic heart beat for a minute, before he spoke up one again. "I'm fine, Luddy!"

"You don't have to lie to me, dummkopf." Ludwig reprimanded, "Listen- Ja, we've been fighting a lot with one another, and ja, something needs to be done. But even though we're fighting a lot, there's a bond of friendship that holds us together. And Alfred is going to make sure that bond never dissolves. We're all friends. True friends. Nothing will break us apart." Ignoring the fact Ludwig had no idea what he was on about, he thought he'd done a pretty swell job of comforting Feliciano.

"Do you mean that...? Oh Ludwig!" A bright smile split across Feliciano's face and he pressed a kiss to both of Ludwig's cheeks. "Grazie Ludwig, that means a lot to me. I feel much better now! You're the best! You don't put the 'u' in wurst, that's for sure. Haha."

Ludwig flushed crimson, hiding his reddened face in Feliciano's shoulder. "What does that even mean?" He grumbled against him, only looking up when the door opened up again. Antonio, who was playing poker with Francis and Gilbert, peered over at the door and cracked an energetic grin. In the doorway stood a young woman who was short in height, standing at 5'3, a friendly smile on her face. She was simple but pretty woman, with lime-green eyes and wavy russet tresses, a trademark flower tucked into her hair. She was dressed in a shamrock-coloured dress, one that complimented her eyes, black leather boots too to top off the whole look. Each of the men watched her with awe, but no one looked more love struck than Gilbert.

"Hola Lizzah!" Antonio said in merriment, waving his hands around. Unfortunately it was the hand holdings his cards, meaning that his cards were on full display, completely defeating the point of the game.

"Antonio, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" Gilbert murmured in awe, setting his own stack of cards down too.

"Oh mon Dieu. There's no point playing with you people!" Francis huffed and dramatically threw his pile into the air. The woman, 'Lizzah' seemed rather shocked by Francis, giggling nervously.

"Uh, hi. Made some new friends, Toni?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow as her eyes met with Gilbert's. "Hi all. I'm Elizabeta. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too! I'm Feliciano! And this is Ludwig," Feliciano exclaimed, disconnecting himself from the German and heading over to greet the pretty lady. She grinned and patted Feliciano on the head, whilst Ludwig just pulled a face of disapproval. Feliciano _always_ tried to flirt with the women he saw. Even though it shouldn't bother Ludwig, it did. And it bothered him a lot.

"I'm the awesome-" Francis elbowed Gilbert in the ribcage, "Ouch! Ah, I'm just Gilbert apparently."

"Francis, mon chéri."

"Arthur Kirkland, and it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Me llamo Antonio."

"Idiota, she knows who you are!" Lovino scolded, slapping the back of Antonio's head.

"Uh, anyway," Elizabeta cut across, leaning against the counter of the bar. "What brings you lot to quiet old Averdale?" Arthur huffed, sending a poisonous look at Ludwig.

"A nonexistent gig."

"Fick dich."

**Sorry for posting this chapter so late! I had major writer's block and a shit load of school work D: I'll try to get them up ASAP, but two weeks will be the maximum time. Sorry again! Thank for you reading ouo**


	4. Charpter Four

Feliciano was in a great mood. Why wouldn't he be? He had woken up before the man beside him, for once in his life; Ludwig was still curled up under the thick blankets. Even though everyone else was up (their disruptive awakenings was what woke Feliciano up), he was still joyous since _he had woken up before Ludwig_. This sort of thing never happened! Ludwig would always wake up and try to write a song, or maybe go for a run. Sometimes Feliciano would even wake up to find Ludwig doing push ups, no matter how early in the morning it was. Never mind that; the point was that he was up and awake before Ludwig was! Feliciano would definitely make sure to hold this over the German's head. Once he'd finished his inner squealing, Feliciano crawled over the other to the window, careful to not wake up his best friend. Feliciano's hair was unkempt like his pyjamas; his eyes glistened over as he'd just woken up all with a wild grin unfurled across his pale face. His happiness was evident. He pressed his face up against the cold glass and took a minute to admire the world outside. He loved nature a lot, making sure to take it all of the details from his view. Once he'd taken everything in, his eyes were wistful as if he was a trapped animal in a cage. It _was_ a beautiful day outside; the sun peeked out from between fluffy white clouds, the sky above a rich azure colour. The twittering of birds reigned over Averdale and Feliciano could see rabbits and cats and squirrels all over the place. Feliciano could also hear the chatter of people in the distance which made him even cheerier- New people to talk to! Of course, there was a part of Feliciano that was worried he'd just annoy these new people but he was going to try to befriend them anyway.

Suddenly Alfred appeared on the outside of the bus. "Yo! Get up! We have a busy couple o' weeks ahead of us." Feliciano fell backwards and emitted an ear-splitting shriek when Alfred popped up out of nowhere, the American's eyes highlighted with stars. A groggy groan slipped out from between the German man's lips when Feliciano sat back and onto Ludwig's stomach. Ludwig promptly wriggled away from Feliciano. "Feliciano, sleeping with Ludwig's really weird but, um, whatever I guess. Haha! Come on now, it's just you two who's still sleeping. Even Gilbert's up before you."

"No it isn't. W- We're friends... You really scared me, you big-" Ludwig clamped his hand over Feliciano's mouth before the Italian could cuss, Ludwig worried about pissing Alfred off further. He was already dreading whatever Alfred had in store for them all today. Not the rehearsal element as such, but the 'bonding' activity they had to do. Ludwig could already sense that this would just lead to more arguments. Feliciano relaxed in Ludwig's arms once they were slinked around him, and decided that it would hilarious if he was to lick Ludwig's hand, the German retracting furiously as he did so.

"Dummkopf!" Ludwig snarled and wiped his hand of Feliciano's back. He slowly started to get up, though he fell back against the bed when Feliciano gave him the usual good morning kiss on the cheek- Unfortunately Feliciano seriously miscalculated where his lips were supposed to go and ended up pecking Ludwig's eye.

"Let's try to have a good day today, okay Luddy?" Feliciano murmured blissfully, slipping off the other. The two were just being admired by Alfred as this all happened. "Hey, Lud, can you say squirrel?"

"Excuse me?"

"Can you say squirrel?" Feliciano repeated. Even though he had pulled away from Ludwig, he nestled up against him once again, arms tightly hung around his waist. Ludwig subconsciously kissed his forehead and shoved him away; not that Feliciano minded! He'd gotten a kiss from Ludwig!

"Nein, I'm afraid I can't. Are you trying to mock me?"

Feliciano decided to be honest about what he wanted from Ludwig. "No! Lovino said that German's said it really weirdly. So I wanted to hear."

"I'm not going to say it for you-"

"Oi, love birds, get ready. We're starting in 30 minutes. Be there or get the sack."

**OUOUOUOUOUOUO**

Ludwig wasn't sure why, but the band's new meeting room seemed to be in the bar. Once he and Feliciano had gotten themselves ready, the bar was the first place they decided to check. And sure enough, that was where they located everyone else. In the corner of the bar was the small platform which was where everyone had set up their instruments, the majority of them centred around it. Lovino, Lizzah and Antonio were all present too; though no one was speaking to each other apart from Gilbert and Antonio and even then they were muttering. The tense atmosphere had lingered there since Alfred's outburst. The American didn't seem to be in a cranky mood at the moment though, busy setting up the microphone on the stage. Ludwig wondered how they'd managed to fit everything on there but the German wasn't about to say anything in retaliation to it. Questions would lead to an argument.

"Ciao!" Feliciano shouted excitedly, waving both arms wildly in the air.

"Guten Morgen," Ludwig greeted more calmly, raising his hand as a wave. Gilbert immediately shot over and enveloped his brother in a tight hug.

"Ludwig! Are you ready to rock out? Can I see your song? I bet it's awe-"

"You use that word way too much, Gilbert." Ludwig sighed, patting his brother's back briefly and then peeling the other German off him. "You can see it when it's done. Feliciano and I are still working on it."

"Nein, I don't. It's the best word in the world, so of course I'd use it a lot. Duh! It's my catchphrase!" He looked rather disappointed that the new song wasn't ready yet, but instead hit his head against Ludwig's shoulder, which earned an low growl from Ludwig.

"It's a lame catchphrase, idiota." Lovino reprimanded, looking incredibly unimpressed with everyone in general.

"Be nice, Lovino." Lizzah snapped, rolling her eyes and folding her arms across her curved chest. Like a lost puppy, Gilbert moved over to the woman, smiling goofily.

"Danke, wunderschönen."

Bjørn quickly interrupted Gilbert's lame attempt at flirting. "We'd better start rehearsal then-" He said, eyes narrowed with irritation. These people were something else. God damn it. "Um, on a completely unrelated note, does anyone know where Mikkel is?"

"He's got cold, so he's locked himself up in his bedroom with a lot of beer." Antonio said, slinging an arm around the Norwegian. Bjørn managed to offer a weak smile, though he did step away from the other man. He wasn't much of a social butterfly, which meant that he preferred to avoid contact with people who were near-enough strangers; not that Antonio minded at all.

"Are we going to practice or non?" Francis huffed, puffing out his cheeks. He wasn't much or a morning person. More importantly, he didn't like it when everyone was angry with each other. He preferred it when the room was full of love. They were all friends! It wasn't right for them to act like this!

Alfred looked up from what he was doing. "He's right! We're going to go through some of the older songs for now, 'cause Feli hasn't written up the music yet. The sooner we've started rehearsal, the sooner it'll be over. And the sooner it's over and done with, the sooner we can carry out my plan." Alfred announced, puffing his chest out proudly.

"How come we're practicing in here?" Feliciano asked. "We usually have rehearsals in the bus."

"Toni said it wouldn't be a problem if we practiced in here." Arthur said. "Alfred thought it'd be better if we came in here, even though it's fucking cramped on that stage. Whatever though, not my problem."

"You're so bitter Artie. What crawled up your ass and died?" Alfred grumbled, jumping off the stage. Unfortunately he ended up falling on Francis, who let out a squeal of terror.

"Mon Dieu!" Francis yelled, shoving Alfred away from him as soon as they collided with the ground. Ludwig usually wasn't amused by such tomfoolery, but he was pretty damn entertained by that. Not as much as Feliciano, Lovino and Gilbert though, who were giggling away as the scene unfolded in front of them. Alfred got back up regardless, apparently unfazed by what had happened.

"Come on guys, Arthur, Lizzah, Toni, Lovi and I will tell you how you all sound." Alfred said, grabbing Francis by the crook of his arm and heaving him back onto his feet. He then went to take a seat at the bar, this being where the other non-musicians had settled. Everyone else climbed onto the stage with bored expression; they could tell this wasn't going to go down well. "Start with _Message From the Angel._"

"And a one, and a two, and three-!"

"And I said,

Break the fallen,

Help the slaughtered,

We're the chosen,

Slay the honest,

Praise the message from the angel-"

For a band considered to be unknown, they were very talented. Each instrument, from the violin to the vocals, flattered each other courteously; the composition articulate and suave. The drums delivered the steady beat, one that was similar to a heartbeat, and it echoed slightly throughout the bar. Each guitar chord was strummed delicately and every bass note went hand and hand with it, the violin's smooth resonances providing an elaborate tune. Ludwig's voice was powerful yet soft, reverberating yet even. He ploughed through each verse with natural effort, the lyrics rolling off the tip of his tongue. The song came together well, producing what could only be labelled as a near enough masterpiece. Alfred's chest was puffed out with pride, the American muttering the lyrics as the band performed. Arthur's hands were in his lap as he watched patiently, a look of examination on his face rather than enjoyment. Lovino didn't seem to be too impressed with what he was seeing; though, he never did come across as impressed with anything. Elizabeta and Antonio were, unlike Lovino, enjoying themselves, listening to the band's enactment with great interest. Bjørn even spotted Mikkel slip out of the Staff Only area to watch. Like Antonio said, he did have a cold, his nose red and his eyes ringed with dark circles. Bjørn didn't let it distract him though.

On contrary to what they had primarily believed, nothing had gone wrong yet. There was no arguing, no death stares; nothing but peaceful expressions. They were all unified through their music… Until Gilbert dropped his drumstick. The calamity was immediately noticed due to the beat disappearing but the band carried on- Right up until Feliciano stepped on the drumstick and slipped off the stage, ramming face first into the flooring. The playing drew to a halt, though everyone was too surprised to do anything to begin with. It wasn't until Ludwig heard a loud cry that he sprung into action, hurdling himself off the stage and rushing to Feliciano's aid. Everyone else quickly gathered around him too.

"Where does it hurt?" Ludwig asked lowly, his arm around Feliciano's shoulders to help sit him up. His features were etched with worry, though he didn't let it show too much. Feliciano's hand was clamped over his nose and there were tears welling in the corner of his eyes. He didn't say anything at first. It took him a full minute to respond in any way, the Italian only dropping his hand from his face to reveal a bloody nose. Lovino, in a small panic, pushed Ludwig out of the way and wrapped his arms around his brother.

Gilbert's expression mirrored his brothers. "I'm so sorry Feliciano! I didn't mean to- I-" Gilbert cut off, looking rather lost and confused.

"Don't be sad, little guy! I'll give you some beer to make it all better!" Mikkel said unhelpfully. Feliciano turned his head a fraction, looking at him with slight disdain. A pout crossed over Feliciano's face seconds later.

Lizzah's motherly instincts kicked in. "Don't cry, Feliciano. Your nose doesn't look broken. You poor thing! Toni, can you get a damp cloth for him?" She ordered, kneeling down in front of Feliciano. Antonio sped off to the sink. He dampened a towel with warm water, returning to Lizzah's side and handing her the cloth. "Lovino, give him some space." She added as politely as she could, "This will hurt." And sure enough, it did. Feliciano let out a pained noise when the towel was pressed up against his bruised nose, the tears threatening to spill this time. Ludwig hated seeing Feliciano like this. He turned glare at his brother; not to yell, only to warn him to be more careful. It was an accident after all. Unfortunately Alfred, Arthur, Bjørn and Francis had beaten him to it.

"You could have seriously hurt him, Gilbert!" Arthur barked, a hand fisted through his blond locks.

"You say that as if I purposely intended to hurt him. I didn't mean to!" Gilbert whined, shuffling from foot to foot.

"Feliciano is like my little brother. You'd better make this up to him." Francis growled, shaking his head with what appeared to be disappointment. Gilbert's expression changed from remorseful to angered.

"It's not as if I woke up today and thought, 'Hey, I'm going to injure someone today!'"

"How did you manage to drop the drumstick anyway? You're supposed to be a professional." Bjørn piped up.

"I'd appreciate it if we could stop harassing my brother. He didn't do it intentionally." Ludwig interrupted sternly, his icy blues narrowed. "Let's not get into an argument."

"This isn't the first time he's done something stupid though. Remember what happened to frog face?" Arthur snapped. "Look, you just need to be more fucking careful. You don't see Bjørn dropping his fucking violin bow, now do you?"

"Don't you start again, you bastard-" Gilbert sneered.

"You're the bastard."

"You're talking about your Mutter, mate."

"At least he has one." Alfred wasn't sure who had said that, but he knew that the line was drawn there. He, however, waited quietly before he said anything, deciding to see if they could work it out by themselves.

"THAT IS ENOUGH." Ludwig shouted, though for once, no one simmered down. The arguments just got louder and louder, more offence piling into them. Ludwig was just about ready to knock someone's head off. "How is this going to help Feliciano in any way? He's the victim here-"

"Hold on, what did you just about my mother?!" Gilbert grabbed Francis by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him closer, his crimson eyes wild with rage. "At least my name isn't Francis! Your name literally means _Frenchman_. Trust me, we can tell that you're French without the name! You rowdy little bitch!"

"Knock it off, Gilbert, Francis wouldn't mean something like that-" Bjørn said, his teeth gritted together.

"I didn't! I really didn't, I'm sorry! It just came out! I don't want us to keep fighting! Gilbert, you know I would never intentionally say something- I'm so sorry, Gil-" Francis babbled, shielding himself with his arms. He really didn't mean to say that. He was just frustrated and upset that the love in everyone's friendship was slowly dissolving. It was evident that his fear was coming true. "You're my best friend!"

"I am sick of this." Alfred grumbled, literally ripping Gilbert away from Francis. He was a lot stronger than he looked and that was common knowledge to everyone. "I keep giving you lot chances and all you do is end up fighting. Meet me by the bus in ten minutes." Alfred sighed sadly, walking over to Feliciano and patting his head comfortingly. "Mikkel, is it? Yo, hey, can I talk to you, Toni and Lizzah for a moment?" He asked, his introduction to her being earlier on in the day. The three nodded simultaneously, following Alfred out of the pub.

Ludwig sauntered over to Feliciano with some hesitance, that being due to Lovino still cradling his baby brother. He put on a small smile, "How are you feeling, Feliciano? Did the cloth help?"

"I'm okay now. My nose is a bit sore though, and it's still bleeding a tiny bit." He huffed, "Other than that it's okay."

"Are you upset with Gilbert?" Ludwig asked cautiously.

"I am!" Lovino hissed, finally letting go of his brother. "I'm gonna hurt him, I swear-" He rolled up his sleeves and flashed the deadliest look he could muster up in Gilbert's direction, but with one look at the taller man, he bottled. Lovino nodded at Feliciano and scuttled outside, after Alfred, Toni and Lizzah.

"I'm not upset with Gilbert. I know that it was an accident." Feliciano shrugged, holding his arms up for Ludwig. The German sighed and hooked his arms around the Italian, holding him in a tight hug. Feliciano pulled back a little. "I'm going to take a nap now. I'll come to this training thing later, Lud. Tell Alfred for me please!"

"Okay Feliciano. Rest well."

**OUOUOUOUOUOUO**

Ludwig, Arthur, Francis, Bjørn and Gilbert arrived in front of the bus (the windows were covered up for some reason, which Ludwig found rather perplexing) exactly ten minutes after they had been told to, none of them wishing to be late in fear of getting into further trouble with Alfred. It may not seem like it, but the American had a lot of control over them; he had the power to fire them. Even though they fought a lot, that didn't mean they wanted to lose their jobs. So they came without a fuss, and waited patiently for the man himself to arrive, each positioned in a straight line. Like earlier, it was a stunning day. The simply serenity it brought had the ability to ease up the majority of the band members and Arthur. The air was fresh but moist, most likely because they were near a large pond. It was fine though, it was still relaxing. The weather, in Ludwig's mind, would simply make this a whole lot easier.

Time ticked on before Alfred finally arrived. In his arms was a large box, a bit tattered and ruined. The flaps were pressed firmly down to hide away its contents, as Alfred intended for it to be a surprise. He nodded in acknowledgement to the boys and lowered the box down beside the front tire, promptly cracking his knuckles afterward.

He pushed his glasses up a bit, straightening himself out and turning to face the men. "Where's Feliciano?" Alfred asked, directing the question at Ludwig.

"He's taking a nap. He promised he'd join us half way through." Ludwig replied briefly, raking his fingers through his hair to neaten it up. Alfred mumbled an inaudible response.

"Can anyone guess what we're doing today?" Alfred questioned after a moment, as if he were a school teacher speaking with a bunch of shirty miscreants. Everyone shrugged lamely; no one was in the mood for any games. They wanted clear instructions and to get the next few days over and done with. Alfred made a whiny noise, "You lot are no fun! Okay, well we're going to be doing something creative. I was looking up team building exercises but it came out with a lot of dumb shit so I decided to make up my own exercises! Hey presto!" He hollered, pulling out a tin of paint. He then began to unload all of the contents of the box, which were all silver cans of paint. Everyone else was baffled. "You're going to paint the bus together!"

"Wh- What?! You are NOT touching my bus!" Arthur screeched, lunging forwards to hold Alfred down. He was held back by Francis though. "Oi!"

"I bought the bus, remember? We hired you separately. You didn't come with the bus." Alfred scoffed and cracked open the paint tins. "Come and get paint brushes guys! We'll all work on this together. It'll be fun!"

Ludwig wouldn't have exactly described the idea as fun. It had the potential to end badly, that much he could say- But fun? It wasn't his idea of fun. This was something that Feliciano would enjoy. He didn't like paint; it smelt funny and stained your clothes. Regardless of his abhorrence towards the idea, he trekked over with the others and picked up a thick brush.

"This is going to take forever." Gilbert complained, picking up the navy blue paint. He dipped his brush in and sloshed the paint on the grey vehicle. Arthur visibly flinched at that action. He picked up the paint anyway and threw the entire bucket of red paint over the bus.

"That's a great idea! Come on dudes, there's plenty of paint!" Alfred wasn't exaggerating when he said that. The American was loaded, what with his parents being rich. So he blew half his money on paints and brushes. Ludwig snapped open the purple paint and, along with Francis and Bjørn who had the colours green and brown, tossed the paint over the other side. They all began to merge the paints together, founding new shades of colours and creating a huge mess. Occasionally they'd flick paint at one another. Sometimes they would paint hearts on the back on someone's jeans, without them noticing (Ludwig). Arthur had the tendency to dabble a bit of paint in Francis' hair, who returned the paint accordingly. Bjørn and Ludwig were more serious about getting the bus painted in contrast to the others, especially the Norwegian; his strokes were intricate to begin with, though they got lazier near the end. The funny thing was that the idea managed to work rather well. They were all talking as if nothing wrong had ever happened, each member chatting and laughing away. Within ten minutes, they'd all located themselves at the front of the bus, working on it together. It was nice and, in Ludwig's mind, he honestly didn't want it to end.

"I think you should put some pink over here," Gilbert said to Arthur, who obliged and painted a blob where Gilbert directed him to. "Yeah! That looks awesome!"

"You still say that too much," Arthur huffed, though there was a shrewd smile on his face.

"Hey guys? Do you remember how hard it was to choose a name for the band?" Bjørn murmured, his eyes shining. "That was funny, now that I look back at it. I'm glad I joined this band, even if you guys can he arseholes sometimes."

"So am I. You guys, no matter how much we fight, are my friends." Gilbert murmured, slinging an arm around Ludwig and Francis.

"I think it looks great! Oh, I'm so happy!" Francis beamed. He and Bjørn were contently whipping paint around, increasing the size of the mess. Ludwig's strokes were neat yet obscure too, all around the bottom of the bus. Alfred was humming happily as he painted, barely listening into the conversation. The boys took a step back simultaneously to look at their finished work, each of them proud in their own way. There was nothing good about their artwork. It was messy, disgusting and animated. However it symbolised the boys' childish in a way, which was probably why they loved it as much as they did. Even Ludwig. Ludwig's chest swelled up with pride. He was very content. Well- He was cheerful right up until Gilbert tipped half a tin of paint over Ludwig's head.

"Y- You BASTARD!" Ludwig yelled, wiping the paint out of his eyes. Everyone else was in hysterics though; quite so to the extreme in which Ludwig joined in with the laughter. He tackled his brother to the ground and splattered paint all over him in response to Gilbert's previous actions. Alfred jumped on Francis and started attacking him with his brush, the Frenchman's hair getting highlighted with pristine streaks. Bjørn and Arthur had joined in as well, and were wrestling each other to the ground; the actual paint had been forgotten about. However, their happiness didn't last for much longer.

A figure pushed the doors of the pub open and tumbled down towards them, the loudest of laughs and sweetest of giggles leaving him. "Ciao guys!" Feliciano yelled, running over to them happily. He looked a lot happier than he had done so before, though his nose was bruised. That was to be expected though. "What are you doing?"

Each of the men exchanged looks of horror; _they'd forgotten about Feliciano._

**Hey guys! I'm sorry that this chapter is late, school is a chore, but I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are love and thank you for reading!**


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